


Winter's Bite

by Linger1536



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 20th century au, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Modern AU, Modern Westeros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 14:58:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12344967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linger1536/pseuds/Linger1536
Summary: The flames lick their way along the paper, and she allows herself to read the words one last time before they are engulfed.We are coming for you,Jon“What did it say again?”The woman closes her eyes.They are coming, they are coming... he is coming.“Sansa?”She turns around to look at her sister, seated on the bed with her legs crossed in her lap while she twists the knife she had stolen from the kitchen around in her hands. “It said that they are coming for us.”





	Winter's Bite

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones! ******  
> I've been wanting to write this for quite sometime and since I'm struggling with writer's block I decided to put aside my other works to write this in hope that it will help me.  
>  This idea came to me after reading about the Romanov family, and so a lot of elements in this are inspired by Russia's Lost Princesses.  
> This first chapter is more of an introduction than a chapter, the other two will be much longer.
> 
>  **Warning:** this deals with disturbing matters such as rape and murder.

The rain batters relentlessly against the windows and the wind slips through the springs and cracks, whistling sadly as it dances around a young woman, tugging at her short auburn waves and at the letter she holds so firmly in her hands.

It is to the wind's mournful tune that the young woman steps up to the fire that crackles in the hearth, blue eyes scanning over the hastily written words. Her thin body shakes with the shuddering breath she takes before casting the letter into the fire.

The flames lick their way along the paper, and she allows herself to read the words one last time before they are engulfed.

 

_We are coming for you,_

_Jon_

 

“What did it say again?”

The woman closes her eyes. _They are coming, they are coming... he is coming._

“Sansa?”

She turns around to look at her sister, seated on the bed with her legs crossed in her lap while she twists the knife she had stolen from the kitchen around in her hands. “It said that they are coming for us.”

Arya nods before tilting her head to the side causing a brown strand of hair to fall into her grey eyes as she looks at Sansa. “How many do you think they are?”

Sansa sighs, rubbing at her temples. “I don't know,” she confesses. “I don't know what remains of the army...”

 “Gendry...” Arya says, her grip tightening and eyes darkening at them name of the man that had been ripped away from her, taking what little joy she had left in life. “Gendry told me that people are revolting.”

Sansa turns around to look at her and she can feel the warmth of the fire spreading up her back. “Northerners?”

Arya's eyes sparkle, reflecting the knife in their depths. “Yes.”

Sansa lifts one hand, dragging it over her protruding cheekbones as she closes her eyes and her shoulders drop in a weary sigh. “I feel like something bad is about to happen,” she mumbles against her palm, tasting salt.

Arya slams the knife down on the bedside table. “Something bad has already happened.”

Sansa's hand falls back to her side and she opens her eyes to look at her sister, who has turned to lie on her side, with her back to Sansa, legs bent slightly as if still making room for Nymeria to lie curled up beside her with her head resting on Arya's ankle. _That's not what I meant,_ Sansa thinks to herself before she slips into her own bed, feeling the springs dig into her back and the coarse sheets scratch at her skin while she listens to the wind dancing through the tree tops outside.

She blinks her bleary eyes as she stares out into the darkness, watching the light of a guard's torch flicker in the distance. _Jon is coming_ , she whispers to herself, closing her eyes and pressing her face into the flat pillow. _He's coming, it's not too late. It's not too late._

The howl of a dog tears through the silence of the night and Sansa presses the pillow against her ears, trying to block out the wretched noises of Ramsay's beasts.

“It's not too late.”

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Did it catch your interest? Would you like to read more?
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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